


Anything but Pretty

by LittleSpacePrince



Series: Tale Teller's Daily Writing Challenge [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, I don't know how to tag this, Kinda, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: Prompt:Open up Tumblr gif search and type in your character’s name.  The 13th gif you count that has your character in it is the one you get.  Make a story around that gif.In which Bruce Banner is sewn back together.





	Anything but Pretty

In transformation came pain. In transformation came agony like he’d never known before the beast. With it came skin like fire and bones like knives, pulling and expanding and shifting as the beast burst free from his flesh. The pounding of his pulse in his ears, his joints dislocating as his entire body was torn to shreds to make way for the Hulk. It was worse to fight against it, worse to be dragged to his knees in futile attempt to contain the monster within, but there was no escaping the pain. There was no escaping the agony that came in green. 

But the real pain came in the aftermath. 

First came the weakness. In his knees, in He would find himself on his hands and knees, if he made it that far. His limbs went weak, hardly able to hold himself upright as his arms gave out from beneath him. It was as though the beast took all the strength on the effort, leaving him too weak to stand. It was as if a million pieces of him were slowly being sewn back together, all his strength seeping through the cracks of him until he was whole again. 

Then came the revolt. The sickness, his stomach revolting against him, forcing everything into the street beneath him. Sometimes he would be too weak to raise his head, leaving him to choke on his own bile, or be stuck laying in it until someone came to clean him up. It took a few hours to keep anything down, which certainly seemed counterintuitive when one factored in the starvation that always followed. He'd scarf down food only to vomit it back up, leaving him weaker than when he began. His own body rebelling against him. 

Then, of course, there was the fever. Fever that lasted a solid twenty-four hours before breaking, sometimes running so high that he feared seizures, or worse. It typically forced him into bed until it broke, leaving him to make some fitful attempt to sleep through it. The chills, the discomfort, the vomit, topped only by itchy, peeling skin, struggling to recover from the beast. The whole thing was anything but pretty. 

It would all come later, for certain. Until then, Bruce sat against a wall on some deserted street, undoubtedly deserted because of the raging beast, leaving him in the quiet aftermath. He was naked, knees tucked tight into his chest, face buried in his arms. He'd already gotten past the weakness pulling him like something stronger than gravity, and, of course, the initial vomiting. Now came the fever, and struggling to find his way home. 

“Hey, Banner.” Bruce heard a familiar voice call. His eyes glanced up at the sound of footsteps and his name, only to find Tony Stark hovering over him. 

Bruce could hardly bare looking him in the eye. He didn't much care for eye contact on a good day, but days like these left him unable to meet their faces, rather keeping his head low and his eyes at his feet. Shame for what had happened, shame for what he'd done. Still, Bruce did, forcing his eyes up to meet Tony’s. Those pretty brown eyes always brought him comfort, always brought him something resembling ease. And in smiling eyes, offering small consolation, Bruce was glad he looked. 

Tony knelt down in front of him, pushing a hand through his curls, pulling him close enough to press a small kiss against his forehead. He pulled a blanket from over his arm, pulling it around the doctor’s trembling shoulders. Bruce smiled softly, leaning into his touch as he pulled him close. In his arms he found safety, and peace, and consolation. In his arms his found home. 

“You alright?” Tony murmured against his forehead. 

Bruce nodded, burying his face into his chest. With the Hulk always came pain, but there was one thing worthwhile about it. Because no matter the pain, Tony Stark would always be there to bring him comfort. He would always be there to bring him peace. To alleviate his guilt. To make damn certain that he knew he was loved. Tony Stark would always be there to bring him home. 

“Come on, buddy.” He murmured. “Let’s get you home.”


End file.
